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if i read another poem
if I read another poem
I might use my brain
I might start thinking and who the hell
wants to to that?
So I’ll just split open my head
peel back my scalp like a can of mackerel
and pull out the pink, curled ball of thoughts and things lying dormant there
and toss it in my drawer
(maybe the bottom one with all the socks)
for later use.
So let me just sit here
with an open head and an open mind
(never mind the pink, curled ball of thoughts and things―it’s in the sock drawer)
and you could drop anything you wanted in here
and I wouldn’t even
feel numb.
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